Crossroads. Irene Hannon

not alone.”

      “That’s not what I mean.”

      Mitch sighed. “I know. But I had my chance once, Uncle Ray. And I threw it away.”

      “You’re a different man now.”

      “Maybe. Maybe not. I can’t risk it.”

      “Well, it’s your life, Mitch. I can’t tell you how to live it. I just want you to be happy.”

      “I am happy, Uncle Ray.”

      “Can I ask you one other thing?”

      “Sure.” Mitch’s reply was swift and decisive. In a friendship forged in pain, there were few secrets and even fewer off-limit questions.

      “In all these years, has there ever been anyone…special in your life?”

      Mitch took a sip of his coffee and forced his lips into a smile. “I assume you mean a woman.”

      “That’s what I had in mind.”

      Mitch thought of all the women he’d met in the past six years who had made it clear that they were available if he was interested. But he hadn’t been. Not even remotely. Not after… His pretense of a smile faded and he shook his head.

      “No.”

      “Hmm.” Uncle Ray pondered that for a moment as he scooped up another bite of pie. “So no one’s ever caught your fancy, made you second-guess your decision to stay single?”

      For some disconcerting reason the image of Tess Lockwood suddenly came to mind, and Mitch frowned. How odd. He barely knew the woman. They weren’t even on a first-name basis. True, she’d somehow managed to touch a place in his heart that he’d carefully protected all these years. But it had to be just some weird quirk. What else could it be when they were essentially strangers? Mitch looked over at his uncle to find the older man gazing at him quizzically.

      “What’s wrong, son?”

      Mitch shook his head. “For some strange reason the mother of one of my problem students just came to mind.”

      “A friend of yours?”

      “Hardly. We’ve only met twice. She’s a single mom who’s got her hands full with a troublesome teen and a new job. I’m not sure why I thought of her just now.”

      “The mind works in mysterious ways,” Uncle Ray said noncommittally. “Well, I just don’t want to take up all of your free time. I can try to find one of the local boys to help me out.”

      “We’ve been down that road before,” Mitch reminded him. “They’re either all working on their family’s farm or they don’t know one end of a plow from the other.”

      “Good help is hard to find,” Uncle Ray conceded.

      “So let’s just go on as we have been,” Mitch concluded, savoring the last mouthful of pie. “It works for both of us. You get a farmhand, I get three square meals and fresh air, and we both get great conversation.” He wiped his mouth and grinned as he laid his napkin on the table. “And if you ask me, that’s a pretty good deal all the way around.”

      The building was hot. And still. And ominous. A prickle of apprehension skittered across the back of his neck, and he tightened his hold on the gun. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could sense it. And he’d been a cop long enough to respect his senses. Especially in abandoned warehouses.

      At least he wasn’t alone. Jacobsmeyer was circling in the other direction, only a shout away. And his partner was good. The best. Mitch drew a deep breath. Whatever was wrong, they’d find it. And fix it.

      He stopped at a closed storage door, listening intently. Nothing. He tried the knob. Unlocked. Carefully he eased it open. Darkness. An even stronger feeling of foreboding. He swept the beam of his flashlight over the floor. Trash. Empty cans. A sport shoe protruding from a pile of boxes. A beat-up shopping cart. Some… He suddenly went still, then slowly swung his light back to the shoe, his stomach clenching. God, let me be wrong! he prayed. But his eyes hadn’t lied. The shoe was attached to a leg.

      He sucked in his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d been here before, and it was never pretty. But it was his job. Steeling himself, he picked his way over the trash to the boxes. Hesitated. Took another breath. Slowly let the arc of light travel up the body. Hesitated again. Finally moved it up to the face. Felt his world tilt. Crash. Shatter into a thousand pieces. And then he screamed. And screamed again. And again. And…

      Mitch jerked bolt upright in bed, shaking violently. Dear God, the nightmare was back. Just when he’d begun to believe that it had released its hold on him. But now it had returned, stronger than ever.

      “Mitch? You okay?”

      Uncle Ray’s concerned voice came from the other side of the door, and Mitch sucked in a ragged breath. “Yeah. I’m…fine,” he called hoarsely, his voice as tattered as his nerves.

      “You need anything?” Though his uncle’s voice was calm, it was laced with worry.

      Mitch took another deep breath, forcing air into lungs that didn’t want to expand. “No. I’m okay, Uncle Ray. Sorry I woke you.”

      “I wasn’t really sleeping anyway. Try to go back to sleep.”

      “Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

      Slowly Mitch eased himself back down, damp with sweat. He’d put his uncle through this drill more times than he could count. But the older man never seemed to mind. He’d been through his own hell. He understood.

      Mitch wanted to let go of the nightmare. Wanted to find a way to put it behind him and move on, as Uncle Ray had. He’d always hoped that in time the memory would fade. But he was less and less convinced that it would. Because while both men shared a legacy of regret, only Mitch’s included an unspeakable horror.

      And no matter what he had done in the intervening years to make amends, no matter how often he’d prayed for release from the guilt and the pain, deep in his heart he knew that he didn’t deserve a reprieve from the traumatic memory of that night.

      At the sound of a knock, Mitch looked up. “Come in.”

      Karen opened the office door. “Ms. Lockwood is here.”

      Mitch glanced at his watch, then at his piled-high desk. As usual, the day had flown by and he’d finished only half of what he’d set out to accomplish. “There aren’t enough hours in the day, Karen,” he lamented with a sigh.

      “That’s because you take on too much.”

      He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “True,” he conceded agreeably. “But what do you suggest I eliminate from my schedule? Tony Watson, who’s picked me for the father figure he so desperately needs? The live teen chat room I host twice a week? The meetings with parents of problem kids? The budget?” He paused and tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, I could do without the budget, but I don’t think the school board would approve.”

      Karen made a face. “I see your point.”

      He smiled and leaned forward again. “I thought you would. Okay, show Ms. Lockwood in. I might as well get this over with.”

      She hesitated and looked at him quizzically. “In the interest of curiosity, how in the world did she get you to agree to this? You hate publicity.”

      He shrugged. “I guess she caught me at a weak moment.”

      Karen planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t have weak moments.”

      “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an opinionated woman?” he teased.

      She tilted her head thoughtfully and counted off on her fingers. “Let’s see. My mother. My husband. My kids. The guy at the car repair shop. The director of the—”

      “Enough!” Mitch